“Yours gratefully,

“Oscar Granville.”

“Mother, here is a slip of paper that has dropped from the letter,” said Jonas.

He picked up and handed to his mother a check on a Philadelphia bank for the sum of one hundred dollars.

“Why, that’s the same as money, isn’t it?” asked Jonas.

“Yes, Jonas.”

“Then you’ll keep your promise, won’t you?”

Mrs. Brent silently drew from her pocket-book a two-dollar bill and handed it to Jonas.

“Jonas,” she said, “if you won’t breathe a word of it, I will tell you a secret.”

“All right, mother.”

“We start for Philadelphia to-morrow.”

“By gosh! that’s jolly,” exclaimed Jonas, overjoyed.  “I’ll keep mum.  What was in the letter, mother?”

“I will not tell you just now.  You shall know very soon.”

Mrs. Brent did not sleep much that night.  Her mind was intent upon a daring scheme of imposture.  Mr. Granville was immensely wealthy, no doubt.  Why should she not pass off Jonas upon him as his son Philip, and thus secure a fortune for her own child?

CHAPTER XVII.

Jonas joins the conspiracy.

Later in the evening Mrs. Brent took Jonas into her confidence.  She was a silent, secretive woman by nature, and could her plan have been carried out without imparting it to any one, she would gladly have had it so.  But Jonas must be her active accomplice, and it was as well to let him know at once what he must do.

In the evening, when Jonas, tired with his day’s skating, was lying on the lounge, Mrs. Brent rose deliberately from her seat, peeped into the adjoining room, then went to each window to make sure there was no eavesdropper, then resumed her seat and said: 

“Jonas, get up.  I want to speak to you.”

“I am awfully tired, mother.  I can hear you while I lie here.”

“Jonas, do you hear me?  I am about to speak to you of something no other person must hear.  Get a chair and draw it close to mine.”

Jonas rose, his curiosity stimulated by his mother’s words and manner.

“Is it about the letter, mother?” he asked.

“Yes, it relates to the letter and our journey to-morrow.”

Jonas had wondered what the letter was about and who had sent his mother the hundred-dollar check, and he made no further objection.  He drew a chair in front of his mother and said: 

“Go ahead, mother, I’m listening.”

“Would you like to be rich, Jonas?” asked Mrs. Brent.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Would you like to be adopted by a very rich man, have a pony to ride, plenty of pocket-money, fine clothes and in the end a large fortune?”

“That would just suit me, mother,” answered the boy eagerly.  “Is there any chance of it?”

“Yes, if you follow my directions implicitly.”